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At Fancy's call, who rear the wanton fail,
Sport with the stream, and trifle in the gale: 480
Sublimer views thy daring Spirit bound;
Thy mighty Voyage was Creation's round;
Intent new Worlds of Wisdom to explore,
And bless Mankind with Virtue's facred store;
A nobler joy than Wit can give, impart; 485
And pour a moral transport o'er the heart.
Fantastic Wit shoots momentary fires,
And, like a Meteor, while we gaze, expires:
Wit kindled by the fulph'rous breath of Vice,
Like the blue Light'ning, while it shines, destroys:
But Genius, fir'd by Truth's eternal ray, 491
Burns clear and constant, like the source of day:
Like this, its beam prolific and refin'd,
Feeds, warms, inspirits, and exalts the mind;
Mildly difpels each wintry Paffion's gloom, 495
And opens all the Virtues into bloom.

This Praife, immortal POPE, to thee be giv'n: Thy Genius was indeed a Gift from Heav'n. Hail, Bard unequal'd, in whose deathless line Reason and Wit, with strength collected shine; 500 Where matchless Wit but wins the second praise, Loft, nobly loft, in Truth's fuperior blaze,

Did FRIENDSHIP e'er miflead thy wand'ring Mufe?

That Friendship fure may plead the great excuse: That facred Friendship which infpir'd thy Song, Fair in defect, and amiably wrong. 506

Error like this ev'n Truth can scarce reprove; "Tis almost Virtue when it flows from Love.

Ye deathless Names, ye Sons of endless praise, By Virtue crown'd with never-fading bays! 510 Say, shall an artless Muse, if you inspire, Light her pale lamp at your immortal fire? Or if, O WARBURTON, infpir'd by You, The daring Muse a nobler path pursue, By You infpir'd, on trembling pinion foar, 515 The facred founts of focial blefs explore,

In her bold numbers chain the Tyrant's rage,

And bid her Country's Glory fire her page:
If fuch her fate, do thou, fair Truth, defcend,
And watchful guard her in an honest end : 520
Kindly fevere, inftruct her equal line

To court no Friend, nor own a Foe but thine.
But if her giddy eye fhould vainly quit
Thy facred paths, to run the maze of wit;

If her apoftate heart fhould e'er incline
To offer incenfe at Corruption's fhrine;
Urge, urge thy pow'r, the black attempt confound,
And dash the smoaking Cenfer to the ground.
Thus aw'd to fear, inftructed Bards
That Guilt is doom'd to fink in Infamy.

may fee,

525

530

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